Close Your Eyes
by hionlife
Summary: AU. Finn, Kurt, and Blaine try to survive on the streets of Cleveland. By some definitions, Blaine dies. Kurt knows this because, by some definitions he'd died once too.
1. The Beginning

Title: Close Your Eyes

Rating: T

Summary: AU. Finn, Kurt, and Blaine try to survive on the streets of Cleveland. By some definitions, Blaine dies. Kurt knows this because, by some definitions he'd died once too.

Warnings: Heavy discussions of death and loss. Brief (off-screen) character death. Brief homophobia.

* * *

Once upon a time, Kurt had many things.

Then, he had absolutely nothing, not even a heartbeat.

Tonight, he has only a backpack full of his belongings, an ex-step brother, and the best street corner there is in Cleveland to busk.

* * *

Finn has an empty, five-gallon bucket turned upside down and two scratched and pitted drumsticks. He has a voice like a zoo lion.

Kurt pulls his newsboy cap off his head and lays it bottom up on the sidewalk by their feet.

Finn starts out, wordlessly, in a dead sprint, banging on the bucket in a crazy rhythm that might be "Wipe Out." The bucket makes the song too flat to recognize, but also harsher, deeper, almost tribal. Kurt feels his heart begin to beat faster. On the sidewalk, people slow down and some stand for a second, listening. They start to smile at Finn's super-focused, serious face.

They toss their dollars and change into Kurt's upturned hat. Kurt glances over and Finn looks up just in time to catch his grin.

Finn launches right into "Sympathy for the Devil" after that and Kurt chases after him, picking up the vocals. It's incredibly stripped down and Kurt doesn't know how Finn learns music the way he does, or how he picks out notes on a plain, white bucket, but it happens. Many people have called Finn dumb, but Kurt knows it's only because they haven't see him like this, in his brief, incredible moments of genius.

The hat is filling up and the street is growing dark. Kurt is smiling as he sings and rocking a little to the beat and totally in the groove.

A tall man in a red hat shuffles past and spits on the cement by Finn's foot. "Fucking fags."

Kurt stops singing like he's been choked. Finn's drumsticks clatter to the sidewalk and he's up and after the guy in a flat second.

Kurt doesn't even have his feet yet when Finn grabs the man's shoulder and spins him around. "You got a problem?"

The man shoves Finn away. "Watch yourself." His voice is low, in-control.

"Finn, don't," Kurt says. They don't need trouble. They already have plenty of it.

Finn glances back at Kurt. He's angry, but he's trying to listen to reason. In that moment, Kurt sees the man move, but there's no time for a warning. It's not even a fight. The stranger grabs the front of Finn's jacket and swings him around into the nearest light post. The metal post vibrates dully and Finn slumps to the ground. Kurt feels his breath hiccup way down in his stomach.

Even the man looks a little stunned, his eyes wide under the red brim of his cap. But, he doesn't hesitate to turn around and take off. Kurt doesn't waste his attention on that, immediately dropping to his knees next to Finn. "Hey. Finn? Look at me."

Finn is patting at his head drunkenly. There's blood running from somewhere behind his ear. "Shit."

"Finn, hey." Kurt grabs at his shoulders and ducks to try and meet his gaze.

"Kurt? Shit. My head." Finn leans forward and grabs at Kurt's wrist.

"I know. I know." Kurt glances around for something, _someone_, but the street is suddenly very dark and very empty. He tugs at Finn's arm. "Can you walk?"

Finn snorts. "Of course."

Kurt stands up and packs their things in a rush. He slings his backpack over his shoulders and pulls his hat down tight. The bucket holds Finn's drumsticks and bag perfectly. Kurt pulls Finn up with his free hand, trying to steady him with an arm around his waist. Finn stumbles at first, but then they're loping down the sidewalk, disappearing into the shadows.

* * *

Kurt Hummel has only ever wanted two things in his life; Love, and a glorious, beautiful house on the lake.

He's wanted other things, of course. An ice cream sundae on occasion, those red, skinny pants in the Gap ad last week, to have his parents still alive, to be able to afford a weekly manicure.

But, those things are fleeting and unreasonable. Kurt's smart enough to focus on what he has and work with that.

The problem is that he doesn't have anything. No job. No home. Nothing but the dirty sidewalks of Cleveland to roam.

At the end of the day, Kurt knows he's trapped. There's no getting out of this black hole alive.

* * *

The hotel they're staying in is magnificent. It's six stories high, each one trimmed in gold. The lobby is grand and full of burgundy velvet couches and marble floors.

It's also halfway burnt-down, scorched black along the ceilings, and crumbling apart past the third floor.

Kurt and Finn have been squatting here for almost two months. Their room is on the second floor, just on the edge of the blackened crust of the building. There are other people staying in the hollowed, empty rooms, but they're sparse and Kurt does his best to avoid them.

He pulls Finn up the stairs and at the top, Finn slumps against the banister. "One minute."

"Come on." Kurt tugs at him. "We're almost there."

"Hold on," Finn says, but at the same time, he takes one giant, loping step forward. They stumble down the hall, past closed doors and into their room. Through the paper thin walls, Kurt hears a neighbor coughing, painful, hacking sounds.

"Sit," Kurt says, pushing Finn onto the bare mattress. Finn does and closes his eyes, slouching low. Kurt leans over him, tipping his head forward, to see the wound. It's only a small cut, thankfully, but it sits on top of a raised, egg-sized lump that is hard to the touch.

"Are you dizzy?"

Finn sighs. "Yes."

"Nauseous?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Great."

Finn squints one eye open. "Concussion."

Kurt frowns at him. "You need ice. I'll be back. Don't go to sleep." Their neighbor coughs harshly again and Kurt winces. "Though I doubt you'll be able to with that noise."

He hurries down to the corner store where he spends the entirety of the night's earnings on a few sandwiches, some drinks, and a bag of ice.

He's only been gone a half an hour at the most, but when he gets back to the hotel room, things have changed. The curtains are thrown all the way open to let in the light from street lamps outside. Finn is flat on his back in the middle of the floor. There's a man leaning over him.

For the second time in one night, the air is squeezed out of Kurt's lungs. He freezes for one millisecond, shaking his head in shock. Then, he swings the bag of ice over his head and brings it back down over the intruder's back.

The guy falls over with a groan and a wheeze.

Kurt's hands are shaking. "Finn?" His voice sounds shrill and panicked, even to his own ears.

The stranger is rolling over onto his feet, holding one hand out in supplication.

Kurt raises the bag of ice again.

"W-wait!" The guy takes a step back. Kurt sizes him up, instantly. He's shorter, but more muscled than Kurt. Dark hair and fair skin. He looks like he knows how to fight.

"Get away from my brother," Kurt says, as slowly and calmly as he can.

The guy raises both hands and steps further back, bumping into the wall. "I can explain."

"I don't care. Back up." Kurt flicks his eyes to the far corner of the room. The guy shuffles that far and slumps against the wall. He slides to the floor as Kurt kneels next to Finn.

"Finn?" He taps his cheek gently, then squeezes his shoulder firmly. Finn squints and blinks and shoves his hand away.

"Hey." Kurt shakes his shoulder again. "C'mon, Finn."

"He fainted."

Kurt looks up at the guy, still slouched in the corner of their room. "I didn't ask you."

"I'm staying next door and I heard him fall. I just came over to check." The guy frowns and Kurt has to admit that the concern on his face looks genuine. For the first time, Kurt notices the raw, raspy tone of his voice. He's the one that has been coughing up a lung next door. He really did mean well.

Kurt sits down on the floor next to Finn.

"I'm Blaine," the guy offers.

"Kurt. This is my brother, Finn. He hit his head." The stress of the situation washes over Kurt all at once and his chin starts to tremble. He reaches out to run his hand over Finn's hair. "Thank you for checking on him, but I think we need to go to the hospital now."

Blaine lowers his face into his arm and lets out a string of harsh, deep coughs. "I can help," he says when the fit passes.

Kurt looks up and takes in the stranger again. Where he'd seen a threat before, he now sees a sickly young man, just as lost as he and Finn. He nods. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

In a cubicle at the county hospital, Finn stares blearily at the wall. He's thrown up three times in the last thirty minutes and keeps looking just to the left of Kurt instead of right at him.

"I've never had a concussion," Blaine says curiously.

"'S'awesome," Finn slurs.

Kurt paces at the foot of the bed. "That was stupid, Finn. You should've just let it go." Now that he knows Finn is only concussed and not actually dying, Kurt is just mad. "I don't understand why you have to go after people like you're some kind of pitbull. You're not a pitbull, Finn. You're not even a dog. You're a...a soft-skulled puppy."

Finn is looking at Blaine. "He's mostly right. My brother, he got all the smart genes."

"We don't even share genes, Finn."

"He's my little brother," Finn stage whispers to Blaine.

"I'm older than you!"

"Only in age."

Kurt stops pacing, fists clenched tight at his sides. Blaine is laughing in his chair beside the bed. One of the nurses had slapped a germ mask on him as soon as she'd heard his rasping coughs. Above the mask, his dark eyes crinkle in amusement.

"What?" Kurt snaps.

"Nothing." Blaine holds his hands up. "Don't let me keep you from trying to reason with the concussed guy."

Even Finn laughs at this, one hand over his stomach to hold in the nausea. Kurt sighs and flops down into another chair. He glares at Finn. "Great. He's on your side."

"I never picked a side," Blaine defends quickly.

"Be on Kurt's side." Finn sighs, turning over and closing his eyes. "I'm going to sleep."

"For one hour," Kurt reminds him. "I'm waking you up in sixty minutes exactly."

Finn doesn't react.

Blaine stands up, coughing into his elbow through the mask. "I'll be right back. Bathroom."

Kurt nods. As soon as the door closes behind him, Finn's eyes pop open. "He thinks you're cute."

"What?"

"Blaine."

Kurt shakes his head. "What?"

"Blaine thinks you're cute," Finn says slowly.

Kurt scoffs. "You're concussed."

"Sorry, dude, my intuition is still awesome. You should get his number."

"I don't have a phone. I don't need a number if I don't have a phone."

"Take him out," Finn mumbles, eyes falling closed again.

"I don't have any money. I can't take anyone anywhere. I'm not dateable." Kurt sighs and looks down at Finn, who is already breathing slow and deep. Kurt reaches out to smooth the blanket over him. Kurt would never admit it, but Finn actually is much better at seeing through to the core of people and what they're about. Still, even if he's right about Blaine, it doesn't change anything about Kurt. He is not dateable. Kurt hadn't really given it thought until right then. He'd never had any need to, but it's true. He and Finn live outside of normal society and even though Blaine seems to be in the same situation, it doesn't change things. They can't date. Kurt has enough issues and enough to worry about without pulling someone else into the mess that is his life.

The entire evening is leaving a sour taste in his mouth. Kurt slouches down in his chair and watches Finn sleep. When twenty minutes have passed and Blaine hasn't returned, Kurt figures he's taken off, not that he blames him. This is the life they lead.

So, when the door swings open after a half an hour, revealing an unmasked Blaine, Kurt is truly surprised. "Hey."

"Hey." Blaine drops into the chair on the other side of the bed. "Sorry. Some nurse just like, kidnapped me and forced a breathing treatment down my throat."

Kurt laughs in surprise. "What?" He'd thought the guy had a cold or something, not some kind of illness that passing nurses would catch on to and treat under the table. "Are you okay?"

Blaine clears his throat and nods. "Yeah. It's just...asthma and winter in Cleveland. They don't mix well and I can't afford the inhalers or medication anymore so..." He shrugs and ducks his head in embarrassment.

"It sounds bad."

"No, no. Not really."

Kurt nods, but he's not convinced.

"Anyway, what happened to you guys? I never got the whole story."

Kurt snorts. "That's because it's a terrible story. Finn decided to defend my honor against some childish homophobe on the street. The homophobe won, with an assist from a light post."

Blaine winces. "Ouch."

"Yeah. Stupid. Stupid and brave."

"You're the older one?"

"Technically, yeah, but we're actually the same age. He's my step-brother. Ex-step-brother, I guess. His mom and my dad were married before."

"Divorce?"

"They died." The words don't hurt as much as they did once, but they do hurt.

Blaine is shaking his head. "I'm so sorry."

Kurt shrugs, trying to smile. Talking about his family has always made him squeamish. "It is what it is, right?"

"I guess so."

Kurt thinks hard about his next words, trying to change the subject and put some distance between himself and Blaine. "This city is a hard place to be."

"You're right." Blaine nods, undeterred. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, chin on his fists. "Can I ask you something?"

Kurt looks up from Finn. "Sure."

"We're sort of in the same place, you and I. Staying in the hotel, no job, no family, stuck in this place. What do you think would really make you happy?"

"Oh." Kurt smiles, surprised. It's a sweet question and it's been a long time since he's given in to a daydream. "Love, of course. Everyone wants love in their life."

Blaine makes a face like he's really thinking about this, then frowns. "That's a given. Dig a little deeper."

Kurt laughs. "Love isn't deep enough for you?"

"Love isn't _you_ enough for me."

Kurt searches Blaine's face for some clue of an ulterior motive for his questions, but all he finds is genuine interest. If this boy honestly thinks he's cute, Kurt really has given in to a daydream then. "Okay, this is silly," he says. "Please don't laugh."

Blaine grins. "I'm not going to laugh."

"Okay. You know those big houses down on the lake?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Well, when I was a kid, I always though that royalty lived there. Not real royalty, but like, Disney royalty. Snow White and Cinderella, Prince Charming. I thought those homes were so grand and perfect and beautiful on the outside, if I could just live there for one day, then my life would be a fairy tale, too." Kurt presses his fingertips to his lips and bows his head. Part of him had forgotten about all of that. He hadn't realized how much emotion he still had stored up about his childhood fantasy. He glances up at Blaine. "That's dumb, right?"

Blaine looks dead serious. "No. No way, Kurt. That's not dumb at all."

"I'd forgotten about it until just now." Kurt shrugs, trying to keep his emotions in check. He can't pinpoint why his eyes are suddenly watering and he takes a deep breath to try and control it.

"Kurt?"

Kurt looks up, hand over his mouth.

"Can I give you a hug?" Blaine doesn't really wait for Kurt to nod. He's already up and around the bed, easing his arms around Kurt's shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay. I'm fine. That's a good memory, actually. It's silly. I just hadn't thought about it since I was a kid." _Since before I died._ _Since before everything was lost. _Kurt gives himself a moment to lean into Blaine's hug. "Thank you."

Blaine pulls his chair around to sit next to Kurt. "It's been an hour."

"Hmm? Oh." Kurt leans forward and shakes Finn's shoulder. "Finn?"

Finn inhales deeply and cracks open one eye. "What?"

"What's my name?"

"Kurt Hummel. November. Barack Obama." Finn closes his eyes again.

Blaine coughs hard over what sounds a lot like laughter. Kurt rolls his eyes. "You're fine."

When Blaine keeps coughing, Kurt reaches over to rub his back. "I bet that bag of ice didn't help you at all, did it?"

Blaine laughs through his coughs again. "No, not really. That was pretty impressive on your part, though. Very resourceful."

Kurt smiles. "Resourceful is my middle name."

"Do you think you could resourcefully find us a ride home? I don't think my lungs will take that walk again."

"Home?" Kurt loses track of the conversation for a second. He's never thought of the hotel as home. It's just a place to stay. He's also tried hard to avoid anyone else staying there. Until he couldn't, he thinks, eyeing Blaine. The whole day is starting to make him dizzy. He stands up. "I'll see what I can do. Just for you."

* * *

The cab ride is a dream for all three of them, slumped together in exhaustion. Blaine nearly carries Finn into their room and drops him on the mattress. He sits down on the other mattress like his knees won't hold him anymore and coughs dryly for a while. Kurt offers him some water. "You can stay in here if you want."

It's like all the energy drains out of Blaine at once. He slumps over onto his side, pulls his legs up and closes his eyes. "Thanks."

Kurt turns to look at the other bed. Finn has sprawled out, long limbs all over the place. He's breathing deeply, slowly.

Blaine, already asleep, is curled up tight on the edge of the mattress. Kurt likes those odds better. He lays down gingerly on the other side of the bed. Stretching out on his back, he still doesn't come close to touching Blaine. Through the window, Kurt can see the first shades of dawn, lighting up the sky. He's asleep within seconds.

* * *

Kurt wakes with his face pressed up against a shoulder. It's wouldn't be the first or last time he and Finn had to share a bed. Then, he hears the room door open and close. Panicked he sits up, or tries to. His left arm is caught underneath his bed mate. Kurt leans over to see Blaine's face. Almost instantly, his face burns red with embarrassment. As carefully as he can, Kurt tugs his arm out from under Blaine's back. Even so, Blaine stirs, his eyes creeping open and squinting in the late day sun coming through the window.

"Hi."

Kurt smiles awkwardly, his hand still twisted under Blaine's ribs. "Hi."

Blaine rubs a hand over his face and groans. "I'm sorry I fell asleep here. I was just really tired."

"It's okay, really. I just...can I have my hand back?" Kurt wiggles his fingers as best he can. Blaine jumps, rolling right off the bed and to his feet.

"Oh my gosh. I'm sorry. Wow. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Kurt shakes his hand. "Just pins and needles."

Instead of responding, Blaine raises a hand to his head and sits back down quietly. Kurt frowns. "Are _you_ okay?"

It takes him a second, but then Blaine nods and smiles. "Yeah, I just stood up too fast."

Kurt doesn't quite believe it. Everyone around him seems to be falling apart. He glances around the room for Finn, suddenly remembering the sound of the door that woke him. He crawls off the bed and finds a note stuck to their bags.

_Temp. office and Rachel's. See you around seven. -F._

Finn sometimes could get work from the temping agency on Euclid Avenue, but more and more lately they didn't have anything for him. Kurt really doubts they'll give him any work if he walks in still half-concussed, but you never know.

"Where's your brother?"

Kurt turns around. Blaine is still sitting on the bed, coughing quietly into his fist. "Trying to find work and visiting his girlfriend."

Blaine sits up straighter almost immediately. "So, you're free?"

Kurt shrugs. "I guess so, for awhile."

"Then, I can buy you breakfast."

"It's like, three or four in the afternoon."

"So? You like breakfast, right?" Kurt nods and Blaine stands up. "Me, too. Let's go."

Kurt hesitates still. He doesn't spend time with anyone that isn't Finn. Ever. Blaine seems nice, but Kurt is pretty sure that's just because he doesn't really know him yet.

He's still thinking when Blaine grabs his hand and drags him out the door.

To breakfast then, Kurt thinks. I can do this.

* * *

_To be concluded (in three parts!)_


	2. The Middle

_See warnings in first chapter._

* * *

The Waffle House is pretty quiet at four in the afternoon. It's too early for the dinner crowd, but a few rough looking customers are scattered around. Kurt follows Blaine into a booth by the window.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Kurt asks again. He feels guilty taking anything from anyone, especially since he knows Blaine is struggling too.

"Of course. Order anything you want."

Kurt is still conservative though, ordering water and the cheapest breakfast plate on the menu. Blaine gives him a knowing look. Kurt scoffs at him. "You're squatting in the same hotel as me, buddy, don't think I don't know what your bank account looks like. And, you told me yesterday that you don't have a job."

Blaine nods in concession. "I don't have a job now. But, I just finished some work with a snow removal company. It's all good. In fact, I was going to go look at an apartment tomorrow."

The waitress brings their drinks and Kurt sips slowly at his water. "So, is that what you do? Snow removal?"

"When I can. I don't mind it, but it's not exactly my passion."

"So what exactly _is_ your passion, then?" Kurt raises an eyebrow. It comes off a little snobby, even for him, but it's been a long time since Kurt has done this. A very long time since he's even had a friend, other than Finn, who doesn't really count. He can't just turn off his defenses like flipping a light switch.

Blaine doesn't seem to notice though. He ducks his head and coughs into his fist. "I, uh, I guess I don't know yet."

Kurt frowns, guilt pulling through him. He clears his throat. "So, how did you end up staying at the hotel? Don't you have any family?" Blaine comes off like a happy, well-adjusted person and Kurt had always thought those kind of people must have very normal families. Blaine squints at him a little bit though and Kurt realizes he once again is on the wrong side of curious and condescending. "Sorry. I mean, that's what people always ask me and the answer is no. Other than Finn, of course."

"You're lucky to have Finn."

Kurt nods, humbled. "I know."

Blaine sips at his coffee. "My family was never really close. We lived together and ate together, but we never really talked, you know?"

Kurt nods.

"The older I got, the less interested my parents were in being parents anymore. It didn't help any when I came out to them in high school. Then, they got a divorce, sold the house, and everything just fell apart." Blaine stares off into the distance. He blinks and shrugs. "My mom moved to Florida and I think she got remarried. I really don't know where my dad is."

"Don't you ever want to try and find them?"

Blaine rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Sure. Sometimes. But, sometimes I feel better not knowing. That probably doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Actually, yeah it does." Kurt smiles gently when Blaine looks up in surprise. "My parents died really suddenly," he explains. "It's been two years and I still forget that it happened sometimes. I like to pretend that they're on vacation somewhere and it makes me feel really good to think that they're out there somewhere, just being happy."

Blaine doesn't say anything for a moment and Kurt frowns. "Is that not what you meant? I'm sorry, I probably sound like an idiot." Kurt looks down at his lap and shakes his head. He can't seem to pry his foot out of his mouth today. He jumps when Blaine leans across the table and speaks with calm intensity.

"It's not dumb, Kurt. Not at all. That's exactly what I was trying to say. You just surprised me." When Kurt looks up, Blaine is watching him with wide, warm eyes. "Thank you for understanding."

Kurt just nods. Part of him wants to reach across the table and grab Blaine close. The other part wants to get up and walk out of the restaurant. It's been forever since he's really connected with someone and it's equally terrifying and exhilarating.

The food comes out quickly and they eat in near silence. It could be awkward, but instead, Kurt feels more and more relaxed. It's been awhile since he's had a really good meal and Blaine seems just as content to enjoy his breakfast. No pressure. No need to make small talk.

When they're done, Blaine pays the bill quietly while Kurt is in the bathroom. As they leave, their waitress chirps at them from behind the counter, "Have a wonderful day, boys."

As they walk down the sidewalk, shoulders brushing, Kurt finds that he can't control the smile on his face. Blaine smirks at him. "What's that for?"

Kurt shrugs. "I don't know. I just...I feel like a real person today."

Blaine suddenly looks serious. "You are a real person, Kurt."

"I know that. It's just...I don't know. Never mind."

"No. Explain it to me."

Kurt squirms and folds his arms over his stomach as they walk. "I guess it's just really easy to feel forgotten sometimes."

Blaine doesn't say anything for a while. Beside them, on the street, a car blares on the horn as it passes them. In the distance, a police siren wails.

"You're not easily forgotten," Blaine says quietly. "Trust me. And even though I've only known you for a short time, I don't think I'll ever forget you."

Kurt can't help the grin that spreads across his face. "Thank you."

"Mostly because I've never been beaten with a bag of ice before."

Kurt laughs in surprise and then nudges Blaine with his shoulder. "Don't be a baby. I didn't hit you that hard."

"You obviously don't know your own strength." Blaine smiles. He starts to cough then, bringing his hands up to his mouth. When he stops walking, Kurt stops too, one hand hovering halfway to his back.

"Are you okay?"

Blaine doesn't acknowledge the question. He coughs hard three more times and straightens up. "Where are we going?"

"I'm supposed to meet Finn down by the Q. Its like four more blocks. Are you sure you're okay?"

Blaine nods, even though he's still coughing on every other breath. He takes three more steps before faltering and grabbing Kurt's arm. Kurt pulls him down onto the nearest bench. Blaine leans forward, wheezing and taking deep breaths. "Just a minute."

"What do you need?" Kurt rubs his back and doesn't let go of his arm. "What can I do?"

Blaine shakes his head, too focused on breathing to give instructions. Kurt has never actually heard someone's breath struggling to move way down in their stomach. It's the most unsettling thing he's ever witnessed and he's two seconds away from yelling for help when Blaine sits up straight with a gasp. He pats at Kurt's hand clumsily. "I'm okay."

Kurt shakes his head. "I don't believe you."

Blaine coughs a few times and then struggles to take a quiet, deep breath. "See? Better."

Kurt isn't convinced, but he can't actually hold Blaine down when he stands and starts walking again. Kurt follows alongside him, hands in his pockets to stay warm.

Kurt doesn't say anything about the slow pace. He definitely doesn't say that he can still hear Blaine wheezing on and off. And he absolutely doesn't say that he's really starting to care about this guy.

* * *

Finn is already on the street when they get there, sitting on his backpack, wailing on the white bucket.

Blaine grabs Kurt's arm, his mouth falling open in shock. "You didn't tell me about this."

Kurt can't tell if he's happy or startled. "Finn used to play the drums. He was really, really good. Now, he plays a bucket."

"Really, really good," Blaine fills in.

Kurt swells with pride, happy someone besides himself realizes Finn's talent.

Blaine seems to be completely over his asthmatic spell. His face lights up in excitement. "Do you play something?"

Kurt shakes his head. "I wish. Sometimes I sing, but it's-"

"You do?" Blaine squeezes Kurt's arm tighter.

"Yeah, but I just-"

"I'm sure it's amazing," Blaine interrupts. "Please, go sing." He even claps his hands a little in excitement, before finding a bench just a few steps down the sidewalk to sit on.

Kurt takes his place next to Finn and when Finn starts the next song, Kurt joins in. He sings the verses, as loud and clear as he can, and Finn joins him on the chorus, filling in the lower registers.

Kurt thinks they do pretty well together and soon, he's lost in it all. Its trance like, the darkening street, the rush of people passing by, the relentless, steady beat of Finn's drumming. The noise of the city becomes part of their music.

When Finn decides to take a break and stretch a little, Blaine comes over and plops down next to Kurt, immediately grabbing onto his arms. "That was incredible. You guys are incredible. I don't understand why you're not millionaires."

Kurt lifts his chin. "People just don't recognize talent anymore."

Blaine grins and Finn points at him from where he's stood up. "Do you play anything?"

Blaine's smile drops just a little. "I...no."

"Can you sing?" Kurt asks. He's heard Blaine talk plenty and has definitely noticed the smooth quality to his voice, even if it is a little hoarse.

Blaine just shakes his head. "No. I used to. Back in school, I was in choir and everything. I got a lot of solos, I guess." He shrugs.

Kurt sits up straighter. "Let's hear it."

"No. I really can't."

"Sure you can. You just said you got all the solos."

"No, I mean I _can't_. Like, I can hardly breathe as it is. I can't. I don't have enough air to sing." He looks up at Kurt like he's sorry, not for himself, but for having to say it to Kurt and ruin his good mood.

"Oh." Kurt deflates. He can't imagine being in this situation and not having a voice either. Busking is the one thing that has saved them. More than that, it's the one thing Kurt has found that truly lets him forget and let go. Not being able to sing would be like Finn with broken arms. "I'm so sorry."

Now that he's listening, Kurt can still hear the wheeze with each of Blaine's breaths. He can see the way each inhale seems to take real effort. "It's bad today, isn't it? Maybe we should just go home."

Blaine shakes his head. "Oh, no way. I'm getting a real show here." He winks as he gets up and returns to his bench.

Finn sits back down and begins clacking the drumsticks together. They play for a while more, but Kurt never reaches that moment of trance like peace again. There's too many other thoughts racing through his mind.

When they pack up for the night, it's late and the streets are starting to empty out. Finn grabs his things and says he's going to go see Rachel. He promises to be back before dawn.

Kurt pulls his backpack on and takes a deep breath. Quite suddenly, it's just him and Blaine for as far as he can see.

Blaine latches onto the strap of Kurt's backpack like a little kid and doesn't let go as they walk toward the hotel. "You guys are really talented."

"Thank you. I'm sure that you are-were-are too."

"Thanks." Blaine smirks at Kurt's stuttering. "It feels like a really long time ago that I could sing."

Kurt has to turn a little bit to see him, the way Blaine is trailing behind him. He tugs his hand away from the backpack and pulls him up beside him. When he has Blaine's hand in his own, he says, "A lot of things feel like a really long time ago."

Blaine hums in agreement. "Do you ever think about that? We're still young and I feel like I've lived ten lifetimes. I can't imagine being eighty years old and all the things that could happen in that time, its-"

"Exhausting?" Kurt guesses.

Blaine sighs. "Yeah. It really is. It's exhausting just trying to make it through one day sometimes."

Kurt squeezes his hand, their fingers like ice together. He knows the feeling all too well. He also knows there's not much to say that can make it better.

Blaine stops walking. "Can we do something?"

"Like what?"

Blaine leads him over to the stoop of a closed store front. They're just a block or so from the hotel. "It's something I do when I feel like this. It helps me feel a little more optimistic."

Kurt smiles, trying to follow along. "Okay."

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not going to laugh."

Blaine nods. "Okay. It's really simple actually. All I do is think about one of my dreams."

Kurt blinks at him. "That's it?"

"Yeah, but, not really. You have to really focus on it. Like, you said your dream was to live in a beautiful house on the lake."

"Yes." Kurt tilts his head to the side, trying to understand.

"Close your eyes."

Hands clasped with Blaine's, Kurt closes his eyes.

"You have to focus. Think about the details. Are your eyes closed?"

Kurt peeks one eye open to see that Blaine's eyes are closed, too. "Yeah."

"Okay. What color is your house? Don't answer. Just think about it." Blaine asks each question slowly, pausing in between each. "Does it have a big yard? A big kitchen? What does it smell like? What kind of day is it? Are you there alone? Are there people with you? Are you old or young?"

As Blaine speaks, Kurt feels the world of his dream sweeping him away. The details fill in just as soon as Blaine points each item out. His dream home is beautiful and golden. It's a warm, spring day and he's standing in the middle of a buttery yellow kitchen. He's not alone, but he's not sure who's with him, either. He feels older, but not too old. He feels safe, contented, and loved.

"Are you there?" Blaine asks.

"Yes," Kurt answers. He's in the house, drifting through his rooms like a ghost. Emotion rises up in his throat. He squeezes Blaine's cold hands in between his own.

"Open your eyes."

Kurt does and finds that he's leaned forward a little. The city at night is shockingly dark and cold compared to his dream, but Blaine is right there, leaning forward, too. He meets Kurt's eyes across the tiny space between them. "Do you feel better?"

Kurt nods, barely moving at all.

Blaine licks his lips. "Can I kiss you?"

A jolt of electricity races through Kurt. Before he can think about it, he nods. Blaine is right there, his breath on Kurt's mouth, his lips brushing Kurt's.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt sees a tall man in a red hat walking down the opposite side of the street. Something deep in Kurt recognizes him as the guy that Finn had fought with and just like that, reality rushes back.

He can't have this. Life is too terrible right now. He has nothing and has nothing to offer. He needs to worry about taking care of himself and Finn before worrying about having a relationship. More than that, Kurt knows for a fact that he is much too strange and dark and twisty for someone like Blaine. For anyone. He's not good for anyone.

He sits up straight and pushes Blaine back with one hand.

Blaine frowns, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What? I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No, no. It's not you, it's me." Kurt would laugh at the cliche if he didn't mean it so fervently. "I can't do this. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lead you on or anything. I just, I can't do this right now."

"It's okay," Blaine says earnestly. "Can you tell me why?"

Kurt takes a shaky breath and focuses on his hands. He doesn't know how to answer that.

Blaine gets it. He squeezes Kurt's hands one more time and lets go. "We can talk about it some other time. Whenever you're ready. We should get back though. It's freezing out here."

Kurt shakes his head. He can't do this. He can't even look at Blaine. The storm clouds have fallen on him hard. "You go ahead. I'm going to walk a little bit more."

Blaine looks doubtful. "Are you sure?"

Kurt nods.

"Okay. I'll see you later, then?" Blaine waits for an answer that doesn't come. When he speaks, his voice is tight and raspy. "Be safe, Kurt."

Kurt doesn't look up until he can't hear Blaine's footsteps anymore. He can see him, in the distance, just making it to the stairs at the hotel's entrance. With a sigh, he stands and heads south down a side street, moving quickly to stay warm.

A few tears slip down his face and Kurt hiccups and swipes them away. It's not fair to feel awful when you're the one hurting yourself.

He's so wrapped up in his head that it's almost a surprise when he makes it to the church. Kurt isn't a believer of many things by any stretch, but this is one of the few places in the city that he still feels very safe. On a night like tonight, he needs to feel safe.

He slips inside, letting the heavy door thud closed behind him. The lighting inside the church is dim, but it's enough to see a few others asleep in the pews, some sitting up, some stretched out. Kurt finds an empty row towards the side and lies down, pulling his coat tight around him. Within seconds, he's asleep.

* * *

Kurt dreams.

He's in the hotel, wandering through the lobby. But, it's not the hotel now. No, this building is perfect and unburned and the entire dream shimmers with a golden glow of newness and magic. The lobby is full of travelers, people rushing by, suitcases in tow. Somewhere, there's the soft scrape of a record player playing a song from the 1920's or 30's.

He's wearing suspenders, which seems very important in his dream mind.

Kurt is happy. Inconceivably, the golden glow of the dream fills him up and when Blaine steps out from the crowd, Kurt thinks he might burst with it. Blaine runs to him and they hug and swing around in a circle in the middle of the crowded lobby. The moment drags on, and then, something changes.

Suddenly, the travelers are running through the hotel. The building shakes, chandeliers tinkling overhead. Behind them, an entire wall cracks down the middle and begins to crumble. Chunks of ceiling shatter to the floor.

Kurt grabs Blaine's hand and begins to run. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he should be panicking, but instead, everything is calm. It's quiet. He's not worried. They're going to run right out of the hotel and everything will be fine, because they will be together.

Time slows down. In the dream, Kurt loses perspective and sees himself and Blaine from behind, running toward the front doors. From above, he watches as the ground opens up beneath them and all at once, they disappear.

* * *

Kurt wakes up with a racing heart. He sits up from the pew and presses a hand to his chest, willing himself to calm down.

The golden happiness from the dream comes back slowly and overtakes any lingering shock. Kurt looks up at the Cathedral ceiling, at the stained glass windows, and feels safe. He feels happy and his most happy thoughts are centered on one person. Blaine.

Kurt knows what he needs to do now. He can't wait for life to be perfect. He needs to let Blaine in now.

Filled with excitement, Kurt leaves the church into the frigid night, and hurries toward home. The hotel is a good mile away, but Kurt is half way jogging to stay warm. The first strains of dawn are lighting up the sky. Happily, Kurt thinks that Finn will be home by now.

The city is quiet until he's almost halfway there. Then, a siren wails through the dark streets. Kurt sends out happy thoughts to whoever it's for, but soon, there's an entire cacophony of sirens, high and low in the distance. Kurt quickens his pace even further. Though he knows the piercing sound isn't related to him, his body reacts to the sound instinctively with adrenaline.

Kurt rounds the last corner. The hotel is four blocks straight down, right where every police and fire truck in the city is gathered. Kurt's mouth drops open when he sees the cotton candy black puffs of smoke rising in the sky. The fire itself lights up the night, casting the surrounding buildings in stark relief, black and white, flickering yellows.

Without realizing it, Kurt starts to run. _Finn. Blaine._ Please. _Please_.

_to be concluded..._

* * *

_Note: To my lovely readers, I can't seem to find my story on the glee page where everything is listed. So, if you're reading, please let me know where you were able to see this listed. Or, if you know why I might not be able to see my own story anywhere? Thank you!_


	3. The End

_Shout out in this chapter to my paramedic amigos. My paramigos, if you will. And to anyone that does the job, thank you._

* * *

Up close, the burning hotel is sublime. On the street, there is chaos. Firemen have already trekked inside, while police are holding back the crowd. On the other side of the road, ambulances wait, though a few have already pulled away screaming, with survivors in tow.

Kurt scans the crowd, but every soot covered, terrified face runs together. The world swirls around him, just as fast as the golden world of his dream. They're not here. They could've been taken away already, but somehow Kurt just knows that's not the case. He turns to watch a few more people stumble out of the hotel's front doors.

He tries not to think about how devastating a smoke-filled building will be to Blaine's lungs.

It feels like hours, standing there, watching their dirty, crying neighbors crawl out of the building, some on their own, and some with the aid of firemen.

When Finn comes out the door, Blaine hanging off his shoulder, Kurt doesn't even recognize them. Their clothes are gray. Their faces are gray. Blaine's eyes are closed. Kurt's heart plummets and briefly, he thinks he's going to throw up.

For a second, Kurt considers the irony, in that the night they met, Blaine was carrying Finn into their home, and now, on this night, Finn is carrying Blaine out.

Finn _looks_ like he can't breathe, he's staggering under Blaine's dead weight, but he still has his head up. He's screaming Kurt's name with more panic than Kurt has ever heard from him. He's screaming with more panic than when he was running into Kurt's hospital room after the accident that killed their parents.

It's this that gets Kurt to move. He meets them on the stairs down to the sidewalk and slips under Blaine's other arm. Finn stumbles in shock at the sight of him and sits right down on the bottom stair, feet sprawled out on the sidewalk. Kurt has no choice but to sink right down with him, Blaine propped between them like a doll.

"Are you okay?" Finn pants.

"Yes. I'm fine. I wasn't here. I was at the church." Kurt is rambling. He doesn't know what to do. His fingers fumble at Blaine's neck, his face, feeling for breath under his nose. He's not breathing. Kurt knows it instinctually, the complete stillness of the body beside him striking him as _wrong_ deep in his gut.

Suddenly, two medics are right in front of them, one reaching for Finn and the other taking Blaine's weight from Kurt's shoulder. It doesn't take the medic two seconds of examination to come to the same realization Kurt had. "This one's not breathing. We need to get him in the bus."

"Blaine," Kurt says. "His name is Blaine."

The medic spares him a glance. "Were you inside?"

"No."

The other medic, a young woman, has a stethoscope to Finn's chest. "I've got really decreased breath sounds on this one, too."

"Finn," Kurt says. "His name is Finn."

The first medic, a guy in a backwards baseball cap that seems out of place with his uniform, looks at Kurt again. "Is this your family?"

Kurt nods.

"Okay. Can you help me out?" He doesn't wait for Kurt to answer, instead positioning the stretcher better next to them. "Can you grab Blaine's feet for me? We need to help him."

Kurt does as he's told and when they lay Blaine down, he's totally limp, head rolling to the side. "He has asthma," Kurt says. His throat feels tight around the words. "It's...it's bad."

"What medication is he on?"

Kurt shakes his head numbly. "None. He can't. He couldn't get it anymore."

The medics exchange a glance. This should be important, Kurt thinks, but then they're at the ambulance. Blaine is inside, the female medic working quickly over him, hands flying between tubes and injections and leads. The baseball cap medic just about lifts Finn onto the bench beside the cot. He moves just as quickly as his counterpart to strap an oxygen mask on him and slide an IV into his arm.

"We need to go," the girl says. The guy nods. He hangs Finn's IV on a bar along the top of the ambulance and reaches over him to fasten the seatbelt across his chest. Then he crawls out the back of the bus and holds out a hand to Kurt.

"Come on. We're already overloaded. No one will notice if we transport you, too."

Kurt takes his hand and crawls up onto the bench beside Finn. The back doors slam shut, one, two and then they're flying down the road, sirens screaming above them.

* * *

By some definitions, Blaine dies.

Kurt knows this because, by some definitions he'd died once, too.

* * *

Kurt is sitting on the edge of Finn's hospital bed as a doctor delivers the news to them. He talks in complicated words about Blaine's breathing and describes the cardiac event that had occurred just as they'd reached the hospital. A cardiac event means that, however briefly, the rhythm of his heart stopped.

Kurt takes the news with numb composure, but when Finn hears the words, he draws his knees up, puts his head down, and starts to cry. He's still wearing the awkward, plastic oxygen mask and his sobs sound hollow behind it.

The doctor rubs Finn's shoulder gently. "Don't worry. Your brother is going to be fine now."

This just makes Finn cry harder. He brings his hands up over his head likes he's preparing for a tornado drill. The doctor looks at Kurt, but Kurt doesn't know how to explain. There's no way to explain that, while Finn may be upset about Blaine, the real problem is that Finn had been here before.

Two years ago, Finn had been alone when a doctor just like this one had sat him down and told him all the details of their parent's deaths. That doctor had probably described Kurt's injuries in just as much detail, including any cardiac events. That doctor had probably rubbed Finn's shoulder just the same and told him something meaningless like, "Don't worry. Your brother is going to be fine now."

For the first time, Kurt sees the trauma that Finn has endured just as clearly as he sees his own traumas.

He pulls Finn into his chest, runs his hands over Finn's back, and looks at the doctor calmly. "Maybe something to help him rest?"

The doctor barely glances at Finn's giant, shuddering form. "Of course."

When Finn is sleeping peacefully, Kurt tucks the blankets up around him and slips away down the hall.

* * *

Blaine is sharing a room with two other people. Behind one curtain there is nothing but the steady drone and beep of monitors. Behind the other, there is the constant shuffling of someone moving around, a man moaning in pain, and continuous, urgent whispers of, "_Dios, por favor. Ayudale. Dios le bendiga._"

The tv is on beside Blaine's bed. A newscaster drones on about a homeless man starting a fire in a downtown hotel to stay warm. On the screen, Kurt watches pictures of the place he had called home flashing by. The building is completely gone. It didn't take much for the already charred building to be completely swallowed up in flames.

Blaine is awake, but his eyes don't focus on anything, roaming around the room like he's lost.

Kurt perches on the edge of the bed and Blaine looks at him for one, long moment before his eyes slide over to the wall. The oxygen mask he wears resembles a gas mask, with several black straps across his face to hold it in place. It hisses and whirs like a living thing.

Kurt pats at his hand. "Blaine? Hi, honey. I'm here."

Blaine stares up at the ceiling and blinks.

Kurt rubs his hand gently, running his fingers over the knuckles. "I know everything is weird and kind of scary right now, but it's going to be okay. I promise."

Behind the curtain at Kurt's back, there is another shuffling and a second voice joins the first. _"Nuestra padre, que esta en el cielo..._"

Kurt closes his eyes.

In his mind, he sees golden rooms on the lakeshore. He drifts through his home, music playing softly in another room. The windows are open and it's a warm spring day. His family is there. It's a fairytale. Kurt moves to the front door, opens it, and there stands his prince.

Kurt opens his eyes and ducks to meet Blaine's dull gaze. "I thought about what you said. I thought about everything you said. When you made me think of my dream, it wasn't about the looks of the place or the size of the kitchen, it was about the feeling I had. I felt safe and loved. Those are the same things I feel in the time I've spent with you. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is _you_ are my house on the lake. You have been my fairy tale."

Kurt tries to smile, despite the tears that have wound their way down his face. "Does that sound dumb?" He waits for Blaine, sincere, sweet Blaine to say _"No way. That's not dumb at all."_

The oxygen gas mask clicks and whirs.

Blaine shakes his head slowly back and forth on the pillow.

Kurt feels a jolt. "Did you understand me? Can you hear me?"

Blaine's eyes search all over the room. Then, he nods.

_"En la tierra, como en los cielos..."_

Kurt leans further over him and holds his gaze. Blaine blinks and tears run from the corners of his eyes to the pillow. "You're okay," Kurt says quickly. "Everything will be okay now."

Blaine nods and fumbles for Kurt's hand. Kurt meets him halfway and holds on tight.

"_Y libranos de mal. Amen."_

* * *

Kurt doesn't remember anything about his death. He remembers being in the car, riding down the highway. It was late in the day and the setting sun was hitting him square in the face from where he sat in the back seat. They were discussing plans for a summer vacation.

He remembers waking up in a hospital room, five days later. Finn was passed out on a cot beside the bed. He looked thin and unwell and Kurt remembers wondering why Finn was in the hospital.

He remembers a cold feeling in his chest, like death had taken his heart and replaced it with an ice cube. The cold feeling only grew as he learned of what had happened. Time passed. Finn and he adapted, they grew, but they hardly recovered.

Some days Kurt felt like he couldn't even stand up straight because of the gnawing void in his gut. Most days, he knew that he would never feel normal again.

Then, he met Blaine. Blaine, a wonderful boy that had struggled, had suffered, and still strove to understand every bit of Kurt.

Kurt knew there were parts of him that could never be understood, not by anyone, but death fixed that too.

It made them the same.

* * *

_Epilogue_

The coffee shop is emptying out. It's eleven p.m. and Kurt is more than happy to call it a night, even while most of the crowd heads further downtown to the bars. Finn jogs back to the stage from where he'd been chatting with the shop manager. He waves a yellow check in the air.

Kurt snatches it out of his hand. "Don't wave it around like that, Finn. Honestly." Kurt glances at the amount on the check. For a second, he wants to wave it around in happiness, too. Instead, he shoves it in his pocket and grins. "Are you hungry?"

Finn is packing their things up but pauses long enough to stick one hand out toward Kurt. "Have we met? Uh..._yeah_, I'm hungry. Nothing big, though. I have to get up early."

Kurt nods. Finn had been working with a construction firm for two months and was already promoted to drywall manager. Kurt's not sure what he does, but it sounds important, and he makes decent money.

Kurt shoves the rest of his things in his bag, turns around, and steps off the stage. Almost like magic, the crowd parts and Blaine comes bounding up to him, immediately leaning in for a quick kiss. "Hello."

"Hi." Kurt smiles. Blaine is glowing in a white t-shirt, tan from his work with a landscaping company. "You look great."

"Me?" Blaine scoffs. "Are you kidding? You obviously didn't see yourselves up there. It was incredible. Everyone loved it. _You_ are incredible."

"You're only saying that because it's true." Kurt winks.

Together, they leave the cafe and head toward home, a tiny but serviceable two bedroom apartment on West Avenue. Finn leads the way. Kurt holds Blaine's hand to keep him back a little.

"How was your day?"

Blaine scrunches up his nose. "Long. Hot."

"I'm sorry."

"You know, I don't mind it. It feels good to be able to actually do work and sweat and-"

"Breathe?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you, Medicaid," Kurt sings.

Ahead of them, Finn closes his cell phone and slips it into his pocket. "Waffle House," he announces. "Rachel's going to meet us there."

Kurt pulls Blaine closer, taking hold of his arm. He sighs dramatically. "You and me, Blaine. We'll always have the Waffle House."

Blaine laughs. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Kurt smiles at him, knowing that for Blaine, that's the truth. He pulls their clasped hands up and kisses the back of Blaine's hand. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being alive."

The fire is still a soft spot for all of them and Blaine winces. "Kurt..."

"For helping me be alive, too," Kurt continues undeterred. He knows now, that between life and death, he is firmly and solely interested in living. And part of living is saying every single thing that needs to be said. "For helping me not be afraid."

Blaine stops and pulls Kurt over to the brick side of a building.

"For making me feel safe again. For making me believe in my dreams." Kurt stops and just watches Blaine.

"Close your eyes," Blaine says.

Kurt does.

"Are you afraid?"

"No," Kurt says. "Not at all." He feels Blaine's warm hands on either side of his face and then Blaine's lips on his. For a while, he doesn't think anything at all.

He lets go.

* * *

_Close your eyes._

_Now when I count to three, you open your eyes. _

_The past is gone, the world is a good place,_

_and it's all going to be okay._

-The Blindside

* * *

Notes: This entire story came from a dream I had, almost identical to Kurt's dream in the second chapter. The idea and images stuck with me and the more I wrote, the deeper it went. The result is something that is very dear to me. I would love to hear your thoughts on it and I would absolutely take criticism over silence. Thank you so much for reading. :)


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